


Coup de Foudre

by VR_Trakowski



Category: Jupiter Ascending (2015)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 04:49:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9966650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VR_Trakowski/pseuds/VR_Trakowski
Summary: Splices don't have soulmates.  Everyone knows that.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The usual disclaimers apply. 
> 
> Heaven help me, my muse will not _shut up_ this weekend. I'm not generally into soulmate/soulmark stories, but she got hold of the idea and wouldn't let go. 
> 
> On the other hand, I got to torment Caine, and you all know how I love to do that...

There were two things everyone in the ‘verse knew about soulbonding. One: the name didn’t appear on one’s skin until the mate in question had reached biochemical adulthood.

Two: Splices didn’t have soulmates.

Not all pure humans had one, of course; frequency of occurrence varied from place to place, planet to planet, ranging from one in four or five to one in a hundred, or a thousand. A few societies considered it a curse, or a special blessing; many more didn’t believe in the actual bond. But the majority of the uncountable sprawl of humanity accepted it as fact, even if they never so much as met someone with a name on their skin.

There was a vast and profitable industry surrounding the phenomenon, also of course. With all of the ‘verse to search, it only made sense for unmet partners to put their names out, so that their mates could _find_ them.

The mix of science, fiction, legend, and rumor concerning the subject was even vaster. A lot of it centered on the Entitled--waiting centuries for their mate’s name to appear was tremendously romantic from the plebe’s-eye-view. And of course there were the _benefits_ of becoming soulmate to an Entitled. Instant wealth, and eternal life. There were millions of stories on the subject, far more than there were actual incidences of Entitled soulmates.

There were a few darker legends about the Entitled sending people to find their soulmate, and said soulmate never being heard from again; but mostly they were dismissed as mere jealousy.

Soulmates were a fantasy for many, a reality for some; a source of comfort and joy, and occasionally a disappointment. But Splices weren’t human, so they didn’t have soulmates.

Which is why, when Caine Wise woke up in his bunk one morning with a line of cramped writing scribbled slantwise across his abdomen, close to the crease of his thigh, he thought it was a joke.

Granted, it wasn’t a very funny one, particularly because _nobody_ should have been able to get that close to him without waking him, let alone writing on his skin. The fact that none of his squadmates seemed to be looking for his reaction that morning was a little odd, but he’d been the victim of long-range pranking before, and Caine pretended he hadn’t noticed it and made sure to hitch his pants a little higher.

But it still hadn’t washed away after three days, not even a little bit, and still nobody had said anything or even smelled like anticipation and suppressed amusement.

He didn’t even realize it was a _name_ at first; it wasn’t in any alphabet his translation implant recognized. On the fourth day he ran a search for it just out of irritated curiosity, but nothing relevant turned up. If it wasn’t a prank, Caine couldn’t think of a single reason for someone to go to all the trouble of _writing_ on him.

On the fifth day, he figured it out, and felt almost instantly sick.

It was bad enough, being what he was--a packless runt, too small, too weak, too wrong. Already a freak. Splices didn’t have soulmates, everyone knew that, they weren’t _human._ This wasn’t possible, it was just further proof of how messed-up he was.

He shoved down the first half-second of joy, the microburst of hope that he wasn’t alone after all, that there was at least _one_ person out there who might-- _no._

Caine had fought more battles than he could count, faced down a dizzying array of opponents and weapons. He knew that the deadliest thing out there was _hope._

Hope wasn’t for Splices, any more than soulmates were.

Cutting or burning the name off didn’t work, it just showed up again when he healed, so Caine kept the name covered or otherwise out of sight. He knew it wasn’t a permanent solution, but he couldn’t think of anything that _was_. It worked until he took a pulse blast to the chest--not from an opponent, he was _faster_ than that, it was a fucking Legion rookie who got turned around in the melee--and his commander had to walk in when the medbot was treating him.

It wasn’t unexpected. Stinger took good care of all his soldiers, even the fucked-up Splices, and he’d sort of adopted Caine in an awkward fashion. Which Caine never really knew how to deal with, but he didn’t want it to _stop_.

So if someone had to see the scribble, Caine supposed that Stinger was the ideal choice.

“You okay?” Stinger asked, looking over the torn muscle and skin that was healing rapidly under the ReCell spray--the Legion didn’t skimp on medical supplies and Skyjackers got the best--and it was nice to be able to breathe without pain again. “Not too bad there.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna stuff that little groundpounder’s rifle down his throat when I’m done here.” Caine reached for the sheet draped over his legs, hoping to draw it up a bit further, but the medbot pushed his arm back.

“That’s _my_ job.” Stinger’s mouth twitched, but Caine knew he’d see to it that the rookie’s commander sent him through basic weapons operation again. Repeatedly.

Caine shrugged in agreement, and Stinger sighed. “Okay, you’re good, I’ll just--what’s that?”

Caine flinched. If only, he thought with a kind of desperate anger, if only the thing had been more symmetrical, or not at a slant, or _pretty_ , he could have passed it off as a tattoo, a bad decision after the last victory party. But it was a little tangle of uneven symbols, and--

He didn’t say anything. Maybe Stinger would make some other assumption. Maybe.

Stinger squinted at Caine’s abdomen, then pressed his lips together tightly, stepped around behind the medbot, and hit its reboot switch. As it went down, he popped out its memory solid, dropped it on the floor, and ground it under one heel.

“Cover that,” he told Caine curtly. “Use the pseudoskin we use under enviro suits. Keep it covered at all times.”

Caine gaped at him. “You’re--you’re not going to tell me this is impossible?”

Stinger rolled his eyes and stretched out a wing to smack Caine on the back of his head. _“Of course_ it’s possible, you idiot, there it is. What, did you believe that guff about Splices and soulmates?” When Caine only blinked at him, he sighed.

“They exist. They’re rare, for obvious reasons, but they do happen. But you listen to me, Wise. You do _not_ want to try to find your mate. There is no possible way that can end well for a Splice.”

Caine nodded numbly. Stinger didn’t have to explain. There was so much fantasy wrapped up around soulmates, so much _specialness_. A Splice with a soulmate was unnatural, wrong. Bad enough if his soulmate was another Splice; there was no way their owners would ever let them be together.

If he turned out to be mated to a human...well. He wouldn’t survive a day. His mate might not either, and that would be worse.

The fact that he’d never heard of a Splice with a soulmate just meant that any other discovery of one had been suppressed, immediately and ruthlessly.

Stinger nodded grimly back, and left. Caine lay back to watch his bruises disappear, with the sheet drawn up to his waist, and thought about where he kept his pack of pseudoskin.

Three weeks later, his entire life ended in a gush of blood he couldn’t remember, and none of it mattered any longer.

* * *

 

Jupiter didn’t have a soulmark.

Deep down she was disappointed, because she was as much a romantic as the next girl, and who wouldn’t want the perfect mate to be somewhere out there, waiting for her? It was all well and good to say that maybe he was still younger than her, but Jupiter thought it was much more likely that she was in the third of the population that just didn’t have them. There were any number of possible reasons why--he might have died as a kid, for instance (Jupiter was pretty sure that it would be a guy) or maybe she was just meant to be alone.

She put a brave face on it and declared it just meant more freedom. She didn’t have to _wait_ for anyone, or search endless databases for a name; she could play the field, make her own choice instead of bowing to fate. The fact that her choices seemed to be universally _bad_ was something she tried to ignore.

Just as hard as she tried to ignore the little voice that said she had no soulmate because she was not truly lovable.

When her entire life got turned upside down and she found out she was supposed to rule half the universe, the whole issue kind of got forgotten in the chaos.

* * *

 

It still seemed unreal.

It had only taken a few days for Caine’s life to change again, from despair to wondering elation. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he was now consort to a queen--that said queen wanted _him._ Out of all the beings in the universe, she had chosen him, and it was an impossibility made real.

His heart had pledged itself to her the moment he’d lifted her in his arms and got his first good breath of her true scent; the fact that she was warm and brilliant and so very, very kind seemed almost too much.

The obvious delight she took in him, in all ways, was enough to intoxicate him. To make him _forget._

And it wasn’t until she had him laid out in bed--in _her_ bed--that her caressing fingers slowed over the patch of pseudoskin on his abdomen, and he froze, suddenly remembering.

“What happened to you here?” Jupiter asked, her voice light and lazy. “It doesn’t feel like a scar.”

Caine slid his hand under hers, pushing her fingers away, and he wanted so badly to lie and tell her it was nothing, just an old injury, but one look at her face and her sharpening interest told him that was pointless. He wasn’t even sure he was capable of lying to her at this point, anyway.

“It covers something up. That I don’t want to be seen.”

Jupiter’s expression went from confusion to the half-angry compassion he’d seen before. “You don’t have to tell me, Caine...but I’d really like to know.” She laid her hand on top of his. “You know I won’t get mad at you for it, whatever it is.”

He knew Earth had a soulbond culture, it had been part of his basic orientation package back when he was working for Lord Titus. But judging from what Jupiter had said both on the Aegis cruiser and on Orus, she didn’t have a soulmate, and Caine had no idea what the actual percentage of soulbonds was on Earth.

And he could choose _not_ to tell her, or at least she said so, but his Queen was asking and he just...couldn’t refuse her. Even if it meant explaining why it was just one more reason he was _wrong._

“I...it’s my soulmark.”

The color went out of Jupiter’s face, and Caine sat up, huddling into himself so she wouldn’t have to touch him. “Splices aren’t supposed to have them, I know, but I do anyway and...please, Majesty, please don’t look at me like that--”

He heard the pleading in his own voice and cut it off. Jupiter shook her head quickly. “No--Caine, no, it’s fine, I just--you’re with me anyway?”

She bit her lip hard enough to whiten it, and hurt rose from her skin in acrid waves, almost choking him. Caine wanted to throw himself flat and beg her forgiveness, but before he could make himself move Jupiter took a deep breath and held up a hand.

“Sorry, sorry--not my culture, I’ve gotta remember that. It’s just, on Earth, if you have a soulmate you usually don’t, uh, have relationships with other people. If you’re a decent human being, anyway.”

Caine swallowed. Pointing out that he wasn’t a human being would only annoy her; he’d found that out already. “I--Majesty, you don’t understand.”

Jupiter sat up herself, and raised her brows. “Then explain it to me.”

In a few short sentences, he did. The rage that flooded her was better than the hurt, but only a little. When she finished swearing, Jupiter huffed out a sigh, and looked at him. “Caine...if you want…” Her voice went thin. “We can find your soulmate. And protect them if you want to be together. Protect _both_ of you. I’d never let anyone hurt you.”

For a moment he couldn’t reply. Both for the unthinkable generosity, which was simply _Jupiter_ ; and for the impossibility of leaving her. How could a soulmate be better than what he had already?

“I don’t want to,” he finally managed. “I want to stay with you. For as long as you allow it.”

Her smile all but blinded him, and then she was in his arms again, and he held on _tight_ , because forever was just for Entitled and a Splice knew to count every second.

* * *

 

“Can I see it, though?” Jupiter asked later, when she had made very sure that Caine knew he was wanted. She knew he deserved privacy, but she also knew it would just _bug_ her, even if she was determined not to be jealous of the unknown person who was Caine’s supposed destiny.

She squashed the unworthy thought that if she knew the name, they could possibly _avoid_ them, and that way she wouldn’t lose him…

Caine hesitated, but before Jupiter could retract the request he touched the odd patch of skin, stroking over it in a repeating pattern. Instead of peeling up, it simply dissolved into nothing.

Jupiter squinted at the little dark marks, waiting for her translation implant to kick in.

But it didn’t. Because she could already read it.

“That’s...Caine, that’s my name.” She traced the words with a trembling finger. “That’s _me._ ” Shock and crazy delight fought inside her. “That’s me...but I don’t _have_ a soulmark.”

Caine stared at her, face stunned and blank, and then lit up with disbelieving joy, gathering her up reverently and resting his forehead against hers. “ _Majesty._ I don’t care, I don’t care, as long as it’s you--” And she felt him shuddering, as if it was all too much, and held him tightly.

It was a little while before she thought to ask. “Maybe--are you not actually a grownup or something? I mean, it sounds silly, but--”

Caine shook his head, still looking blissful. “I’ve been an adult since I was certified for sale. Probably…” He glanced away, clearly doing mental calculations. “Probably all of your life, actually.”

The fact that he didn’t seem to find that weird had to be part of space culture, Jupiter decided. And then froze.

_All of my life._

It was stupid, it was _impossible_ , but she was going to run with it. “Hold on a sec,” she said, her voice tight with sudden excitement. “Let me just--”

She scrambled out of Caine’s arms and off the bed, hunting for the nearest sheave and stylus, never mind her nudity. Caine watched her, obviously bewildered, but didn’t protest.

Jupiter presented him with the sheave as she climbed back into bed. “Do me a favor and write your name.”

Caine blinked, and obeyed, carefully scripting something and handing back the sheave. It didn’t look like what she had in mind, and Jupiter’s heart sank for a moment, and then she realized--

“Did you learn this because I come from Earth?” She ran a fingertip across the Roman letters.

Caine actually flushed. “Yes?”

Jupiter had to kiss him for that, several times. But finally she pushed the sheave back into his hands. “Write it the way you would to sign something official.”

And the joy swelled again as she watched him _draw_ , a complex round symbol that echoed the brand on his neck.

All these years, they’d been _wrong_.

Caine looked up at her grin. “What?”

Jupiter laughed out loud, and sat back, raising her left arm and pointing her elbow at the ceiling. Caine blinked again, and then his gaze focused on the dark spot on the tender skin of her inner arm.

“We always thought it was some kind of weird birthmark,” Jupiter explained, shivering a little as Caine peered more closely and his breath brushed her skin. “The only time I heard my mother make a joke about my name was because it looks like it has the symbol for ‘Jupiter’ in it, but they named me that before I was even born--”

Caine made a tiny whimpering sound and grabbed her up again, and Jupiter was pretty sure that this time he was crying. But she was kind of crying herself, and it didn’t matter.

* * *

 

Some decades later, the first Splice-Splice soulbond was made public, and while there was some backlash, the overall attitude ranged from neutral to positive.

After all, when the First Primary of the House of Abrasax--one of the most powerful people in the known universe--openly admitted that she was soulbound to her Splice consort, what could society do but accept it?

It also didn’t hurt that Queen Jupiter made it known that the couple was under her protection, but those who knew her were not surprised.

Not in the least.

End.


End file.
